


Where Thestrals Fly

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beltane, M/M, Romance, Thestrals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 05:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Every Beltane, Severus and Harry undertake the ritual of moving Thestrals between the Bel fires.  As they grow closer the light in their future steadily overpowers the darkness of their past.





	Where Thestrals Fly

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of a 2014 fic which Tami has just reminded me about, that I never uploaded to AO3. Written for alafaye for hds_beltane 2014. The quote at the start is from And Death Shall Have No Dominion by Dylan Thomas.
> 
> This work has been podficced by the brilliant [fire_juggler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_juggler/pseuds/fire_juggler). You can find the podfic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321954).

_Though they go mad they shall be sane,_

_Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;_

_Though lovers be lost love shall not;_

_And death shall have no dominion._

*****

Their stories entwine with an _Avada Kedavra_ on a night when the sky bleeds rain. They come together with a snarled shout of despair and a high-pitched cry.

Two sets of hands grapple together, one small, one large and both reaching for comfort.

One day their hands will meet, but not tonight.

Elsewhere the sun rises, a signal goes up in the air and the sky begins to flame.

*

Death brings them closer.

He stalks them and smiles when they try to evade him. He watches through veils, parchment which writes its own words, cursed rings and the eyes of a serpent. He takes it all in, and bides his time. He won’t allow them to escape.

They cannot. They will not.

Death knows how this ends.

*

They take Death by surprise just when he least anticipates it.

He expects them to use every last ember of life to fight against the darkness, but he’s wrong. When the time comes they go willingly, with a flicker of surprise and a firm jaw set with steely determination. 

One is covered with dirt and grief, and kneels down to speak in a rush of desperate pleas. The other bleeds out onto the floor. He spills his silver memories into a glass phial that recall the first _Avada Kedavra_. 

This time, when the two sets of hands grapple for comfort they meet one another and clasp together.

The boy looks, and for the first time the man sees.

It is in that moment Death realises he might lose.

*

Death senses despair and follows it over the sea and up into the clouds.

There is nothing left to suck away the souls of the living, but the pain still lingers in every crack of the stone walls of Azkaban. It thrums through the concrete and sea-battered shell of the prison, and envelops its inhabitants pulling them deep inside its circle of grief.

Death watches over the Professor and whispers sweet promises of _soon_ and _it’s nearly time_.

The man is weakened by his injuries and he accepts his lot with the same willingness as before.

That is, until the boy returns.

He rattles the cages and unlocks the chains. He fights with furious rage and his power ebbs and flows until it overpowers the darkness. It is good, it is strong and it is _brave_ and Death doesn’t want any of it.

*

The trial comes, and Death watches with eager readiness. If all goes as planned, there will be another chance for him to take what he pleases.

The _Not Guilty_ falls with the thud of a hammer and the crowds mutter and clap.

Death departs and the shadows lift.

The two men come together under the blazing sun. They find a small courtyard filled with flowers and bees, far away from prying eyes.

The war is won.

*

They gather together and toss their heads proudly, and paw at the floor with elegant hooves on slender legs. Their sharp edges are defined by the dark, glossy sheen of their skin and when they spread their wings out and move up the midnight sky filled with glittering stars they are magnificent. They stretch their leathery wings like fingers, out to touch the clouds as they glide through the night.

Harry mounts the Thestral with ease, largely because they’re used to him now. He clutches his arms around the creature’s neck and feels every ridge of the skeletal frame beneath his body. He clutches on tightly as the castle below grows small and distant.

When he can see the castle no more, they are alone in the sky at last. They push higher into the clouds together and Harry’s laughter catches on the wind, whisked away from him by the sudden gust of air. He keeps a tight grip and urges the Thestral towards the huge Belfire which is nothing more than a bright dot on a wide expanse of land from this vantage point.

The Thestral responds to Harry’s direction and the flames draw closer, keeping his body warm.

*

“Must it always be _you_ they ask to carry out this infernal ritual?”

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.” Harry glances at Severus who responds with a scowl.

“There are few times of the year I loathe as much as Beltane.”

“Is that right?” Harry runs his hand over the elegant neck of the Thestral which had landed them safely, close to the Belfire. “Dare I ask what other times of year offend you?”

“ _Christmas_.” Severus continues to glare and turns to his own Thestral, murmuring something under his breath when the creature tosses its head and rears up onto its hind legs with a caw of protestation.

“Of course.” Harry grins and crouches down, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “I might have guessed.”

“Why do you continue to do this? I would have thought there must be more pleasing jobs for the Saviour of the wizarding world. Draco has managed to secure a speaking role at tonight’s celebrations.”

“Has he indeed.” Harry laughs and stands, brushing the dirt from his hands. “I’m not really one for public speaking. Never have been.”

“Yet you can be eloquent enough when the mood suits.”

Harry looks up, surprised.

“I can?”

“When you are trying to save a man from Azkaban.” Severus inclines his head briefly and then turns, dismissing Harry with a twitch of his shoulders. “You can.”

*

They ask Harry again with an official piece of parchment and a letter full of platitudes.

The ceremony is such an important part of Beltane, the letter proclaims. Harry responds as he always does, with a Fire Call to Kingsley.

“I hope you’re not going to turn down the invitation, Harry. You heard the mumblings about another Dark Lord? All absolute nonsense of course, but we need you to take part this year more than ever. You’re our figure of hope. There’s going to be an almighty ruckus if you can’t – they’ll see it as some sort of omen.”

“Who else have you asked?”

“Who do you think?” Even through the flames, Harry can tell he is being given a very sceptical look. “Although I’m not entirely sure he has quite the same soothing effect on the general public.”

“Don’t be like that.” Harry laughs, his heartbeat quickening. “I think he could be very soothing under the right circumstances.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Kingsley winces. “Malfoy’s speaking again and he’s been walking around the Ministry like he owns the place. Look, Harry, are you sure I can’t convince you to do something other than fly those damned horses around? I really think it would be better to have you in a more prominent position during the celebrations. Spending hours in the forest making sure the Thestrals don’t run riot hardly seems to be the best place for you.”

“Still, it’s where I want to be. You know I’m no good with all that ceremonial stuff, Kingsley. At least this way I can fly. I’m much better at that.”

“Well, then. I’ll just tell the _Prophet_ the usual rot about it being the most important part of the ceremony or something like that just as we’ve done every year.” Kingsley flashes Harry a quick smile. “It’s important enough, I suppose – symbolic. Besides, I can always hint that you’re still considering a Ministry position.”

“If it helps keep people off your back.” Harry nods to Kingsley. “I’ll see you there.”

“If I haven’t throttled Malfoy by then and landed myself in Azkaban.” With that, Kingsley disappears.

*

“I had the misfortune of reading your book the other day.” Severus lands before Harry and greets him with derision. “It was not an experience I intend to repeat.”

“My book?” Confused, Harry moves off the Thestral’s back and clutches onto the reigns, keeping him steady.

“ _Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived Again and Again_.” Severus arches his eyebrow in a way that implies Harry himself thought up the ridiculous title.

Harry bristles. “If you managed to read the whole thing, I’m sure you picked up on the words _unauthorised biography_.”

“That particular note is quite well-hidden in the fine print.” Severus smirks. “Of course, when I received my own honourable mention I realised you had no hand in it.”

“You’re mentioned?”

“Yes. Apparently you fancy yourself in love with me.” Severus pushes himself off the tree and wanders behind Harry to help him keep the Thestral steady. “Which is an interesting notion to say the least.”

Harry’s heart thuds in his chest and he resists the urge to lean back into Severus.

“I’m not sure where they got that from.”

“No.” Severus’ hand brushes against Harry’s as he takes the reigns and the touch sends a spark of pleasure through Harry’s body. “I can’t imagine, either.”

*

“You dress rather well for these occasions, considering our role largely involves taking the Thestrals from one fire to the next, and keeping them quiet on the outskirts of the forest.” Severus contemplates Harry, the gaze filling Harry with a warm glow as the large fire casts long shadows over the dark grass.

“It seems as good an occasion as any to smarten myself up a bit.” Harry’s cheeks heat and he brushes some dust from his robes. “Besides, there’s always the possibility of Kingsley making me say a few words.”

“Of course.” The corners of Severus’ mouth twitch.

“Have you ever been to one of these things? Properly, I mean.”

“Once. A long time ago.” Severus glances away and doesn’t elaborate.

“What’s it like?”

“Uncomfortable for those of us who don’t enjoy prancing about and incanting.”

“I see.” Harry bites back a laugh at the image of Severus ‘prancing.’ “There’s a lot of powerful magic involved, though. I would have thought that would be right up your street.”

Severus glares at Harry. “Thank you, but I am quite capable of experiencing _powerful magic_ without taking part in holy rituals.”

“Apart from this.” Harry gestures towards the Thestrals. “You do this.”

“I suppose I do.” Severus flicks his gaze away from Harry.

“Do you know why this ritual use Thestrals? I always thought most witches and wizards believe that Thestrals are unlucky.”

One of the nearby Thestrals lets out a low shriek of protest and cocks its head to the side, looking at Harry with coal black eyes.

“I think you’re upsetting them, Potter.” Severus tuts under his breath and waits for the Thestrals to settle. “It is precisely because of their association with death that Thestrals are used in the Beltane rituals. The transportation of the creatures from one Belfire to the next is intended to ward off death and disease. However, due to the fact that those capable of seeing Thestrals tend not to enjoy being around them, we find ourselves here instead of wearing flowers around our heads and jumping about the Belfire with Ministry employees. More’s the pity.”

“I can’t imagine you wearing flowers.” Harry grins and earns himself a huff from Severus, as if the very thought is too ridiculous to contemplate. “Do you reckon it does anything? The ritual, I mean.”

“I think it is superstition and nothing more.”

“Then why do you agree to do this every year?”

Severus turns to Harry and meets his gaze, the look in his eyes reminding Harry of one of the Thestrals.

“I could ask you the same question.”

*

The celebrations are in full swing, and Malfoy’s words carry on the wind towards their space in the forest. The ceremony lasts for long enough that they have to take a seat eventually, and Harry pulls off his outer-robes, spreading them on the ground.

“Take a seat.”

“How chivalrous.” Severus takes a seat nevertheless and they sit in silence, listening to the few snippets of Malfoy’s speech they’re able to catch.

“Malfoy’s driving Kingsley barmy.” Harry laughs at the thought and glances at Severus. “You’re close to him?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Severus brushes grass from his trousers. “He appears to be turning into a better man than his father. I find his company tolerable.”

“Tolerable?” Harry raises his eyebrows and studies Severus. “The _Prophet_ seemed to insinuate last week that you found him more than tolerable.” He thinks back to the way Severus and Draco looked in the picture in the newspaper, with their heads bowed together and feels his heart clench.

“You of all people should know better than to believe everything you read.” Severus shifts in his place and stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. “I can assure you I have no interest in romancing Lucius Malfoy’s son.”

“None at all?” Harry isn’t sure if he believes it and he can’t help but push.

“No.” Severus faces Harry head on, and his eyes trace Harry’s face, lingering on his lips. “None at all.”

*

The speeches stop, the singing begins and the companionable silence stretches between them.

The Thestrals settle, lapping at the nearby brook and letting out soft contented caws.

“Do you know we’ve been doing this for five years?” Harry turns to Severus and realises that somewhere between the singing and the silence, Severus has moved closer. Their shoulders brush together and Harry fills with warmth.

“Doing _what_ exactly?” Amused, Severus traces his fingers along Harry’s arm and the sensation makes him shiver. “Dancing around one another, surrounded by creatures which remind us of events we would both like to forget?”

“Are we dancing?” Harry holds his breath and Severus stills his movements.

“In a manner of speaking. Thankfully, not literally.”

Harry laughs and moves to press against Severus. Their hands touch, and Harry remembers.

The shriek from one of the Thestrals startles him, and Harry swallows and gets to his feet. He presses his forehead to the Thestral’s neck, soothing it with calming words. The creature responds with a strange nuzzle of affection and Harry closes his eyes, steadying his breathing. 

Harry hears Severus approach and leans back into him, not willing to pretend anymore. “Do you ever think about that day?”

“It is hardly something I would easily forget.” Severus reaches out to take the Thestral’s reigns. His other hand settles on Harry’s hip and sends a spark of pleasure through him. “I had just been granted my freedom after all.”

“You wanted to celebrate, I suppose.” Harry turns in the circle of Severus’ arms and Severus responds by pulling him close.

“That’s one way of putting it.” Severus drops the reigns and slides his hand into Harry’s hair. “Of course, there were other factors at work.”

“Such as?”

“Confidence.” Severus leans closer, his breath ghosting over Harry’s lips. “Passion. Power.”

Harry groans, and fists his hand into Severus’ hair. He pulls him close and kisses him. The heat from the fire bathes them like the heat from the sun, years before.

Severus pushes Harry back against one of the large oaks and kisses him more firmly, sliding his hands over his sides and up again into his hair. Harry responds eagerly and readily, pulling Severus as close as he can and running his hands over Severus’ back.

As they kiss, the Thestrals stretch their wings. The long shadows created by the wingspan hide them from prying eyes. The moment is private, and it is theirs.

*

“I believe our services are required once more.” Severus gestures to the two thick envelopes which sit on the doormat, embossed with the Ministry seal.

“Are we flying the Thestrals again?”

“Naturally.” Severus smirks at Harry. “Unless you intend to speak?”

“Forget that – let Malfoy have his moment. Again.”

“Very well.” Severus nods and picks up his quill. “I will respond for us both, if you wish.”

Harry smiles, warmth filling his chest as he watches Severus. “Please.”

*

“When I ask you both to conduct a sacred ritual, this is not exactly what I expect you to do with your time.” Shacklebolt folds his arms and glares at Harry.

“Sorry about that, Kingsley.” Harry clears his throat and adjusts his robes, glad that Kingsley didn’t catch them half an hour earlier.

“If you would be willing to make a brief appearance, I could let the matter slide.”

Harry bites back a smile and glances at Severus, who gives an almost imperceptible nod.

“Alright then, lead the way.” Harry falls into step next to Kingsley and rolls his eyes at Kingsley’s broad smile. “I know you planned this.”

“Can’t have you snogging in the forests when there’s work to be done, Harry.” Kingsley pats Harry’s shoulder and urges him forward towards the gathered crowds.

Harry waves awkwardly as people cheer and call his name, settling only when he feels a warm hand on the base of his spine.

*

Death returns to them when the sky is rich with flames.

They lie together in the soft glow from the fire and the heat colours their bare skin in rich yellows and reds. Everyone left a long time ago, and they have fallen into a tranquil sleep not expecting to be disturbed.

Death studies how their forms entwine and their hands clasp together. He feels a sense of glee and _possibility_ , anticipating the delicious taste of grief on his tongue. He moves towards them, hiding in the shadows which the fire casts around their bodies.

Before he can touch them, a shriek startles him and he flinches back.

Thestrals.

They take their stance around the resting couple, and meet Death’s gaze head on. They know Death intimately and they can see his every move. Their wings spread and they gallop forth as Death flees for the last time.

There is no place for him here.

_~Fin~_


End file.
